


Honoring Thieves

by der_tanzer



Category: Firefly
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-31
Updated: 2011-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-22 00:31:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Jayne met (the first) Vera.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honoring Thieves

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Marian Call's _Vera Flew the Coop_. After writing this fic, I found a video where she explains that Vera is a folk hero in her version of the Firefly 'verse, celebrated in story and song. (Not unlike the Hero of Canton himself.) But I like my version, so here it is.

_Vera rode alone the whole of her ferocious life_  
She'd never met a boy she didn't think deserved the knife  
Not a one of them was worthy in her steady, steely eyes  
'Cos they all fronted for their flaws and Vera always sneered at lies  
Yeah, she found all men were liars and Vera couldn't live with lies

 _It was not 'till Vera's dying day her hard heart met desire_  
The man who shot her through was the only man she could admire  
That mortal wound awoke in her a fire no balm could soothe  
And she said "I think I love you" and Vera always told the truth  
Oh, as she died she said "I love you" and Vera always told the truth  
~Marian Call _Vera Flew the Coop_

Jayne Cobb wasn’t anybody’s idea of a mastermind. He didn’t plan the bank job and he was only in for seven percent of the take. One day it would be pointed out to him that seven percent and sharing a bunk with a smelly little rat like Magers wasn’t a very good deal, but that was years away. Jayne didn’t think about things like that. Just as he didn’t make the plans or worry about what might be told him in the future.

So it wasn’t his time that was wasted when a month’s plotting and scheming got shot all to hell by Vera Dahl and the gang who rode behind her. It was Bowman’s plan and Bowman was buying the whiskey whether the job came off or not. Another reason Jayne didn’t mind not leading. But he did mind getting beat by Vera and her stragglers.

No one came right out and called them _Vera’s gang_ , although that was really what they were. She considered herself a loner and didn’t particularly want a gang. But she had to admit they were a’right handy for stopping bullets, and she’d left more than one behind to get his neck stretched in her stead. Because they died easily and cost her little, the only traits she really valued in men, she let them follow her about and occasionally participate in her little schemes. But they didn’t plan, they didn’t play key roles, and they didn’t get no seven percent. Where they bunked, and who they bunked with, was no concern of hers, so long as they didn’t think they were bunking with her. Those as made that mistake died a little more easily than did some others.

Bowman and Magers knew all about Vera and they clued Jayne in fast. She got what she wanted when she wanted it and it was best to stay out of her way. If she wanted to rob the bank you planned to rob, you let her. If she beat you to the train you’d been trailing for a week, you broke off and let her take it. And if she sat down at your card table, you kept your mouth shut and let her win.

They’d also told him that you didn’t flirt with her, not even the offer of a drink, but Jayne didn’t need to be told that. One look at her hard face and steely eyes dried up all desire to flirt with anyone, anywhere, ever again. Vera didn’t take to no man, and she wasn’t known to be overly fond of women, either. No, Vera Dahl had no use for anyone, outside of bullet stopping, and the whole world, so far as Jayne could see, was perfectly at ease with that arrangement.

But Jayne, newly arrived on this world and accustomed himself to being the one people stepped aside of, wasn’t so eager to back down. It weren’t his way, he explained to Bowman, as they watched Vera ride off with the take from the job he’d been looking forward to so eagerly. Seven percent weren’t much, but he could have done some serious drinking and whoring with it. For a couple days, anyway, and it irked him to sit his horse and watch her ride away with it.

“We ain’t goin’ after her,” Bowman said flatly. “Damn it, Jayne, ain’t you ever heard a word I said? No one ever took a cent off Vera Dahl, nor anyone she run with. No one ever took nothing off’n them but lead.”

“No one meaning you, or people that has guts?”

“Now, Jayne,” Magers interrupted. “That ain’t no way to talk to the boss.”

“Boss o’ _what_ , exactly? Two guys sitting here with their dicks in their hands and nothing in their pockets? I say we go after that girl and get our money.”

“No one gives a good gorram what you say,” Bowman reminded him. Jayne’s expression tightened and he sawed uselessly at his horse’s mouth.

“Well, I’m goin’. She ain’t got far. I’ll trail her ‘til dark and bushwhack her when she makes camp. If you all are still here when I get back, maybe I’ll share my riches.” He grinned coldly and his big bay danced. “Or maybe not.”

“You go after Vera and you ain’t comin’ back. But mayhap we’ll follow along in a day or two and bury whatever’s left of you.”

“Suit yourself,” he grunted and put his spurs to the bay’s scarred sides. Jayne was a good enough horseman, but he wasn’t ever particularly kind to anything he rode.

***

Vera knew he was coming almost from the moment he decided it himself. That was her gift—to always know what was in the minds of men. She led him a fine chase, wearing out his horse which carried a too-heavy load, and allowing him to meet her as the sun was going down. She was always in charge, no matter what. The men who followed her, the useless fools who couldn’t think for themselves any more than this fool who sat before her could, were keeping their distance. They wanted her protection, her reputation, and a share of her score, but they wanted no part of this fight.

Well, maybe the man who faced her now was better than the average of his kind. He was certainly better than the cowards who hid behind the skirts of her long brown duster, as he was better than his cohorts who hadn’t had the balls to chase after the prize she’d stolen from them. But being better than the average didn’t make him special enough. She’d never met a man worth not killing, and despite the reputation that he carried like a grudge, she didn’t figure on him being an exception. The best she could say for any man was that he was good enough to ride in her dust for a while, and Jayne might be one of those. But she didn’t expect he’d agree to it at gunpoint. Maybe from another man, but she’d never come up against anything with a penis that didn’t think it could outshoot her. That was one of the reasons so many of them ended up dead at her feet. They seemed to prefer it.

“So, yer Vera,” he said shortly, his hand on his pistol. “You got something belongs to me.”

“The hell I do,” she replied with a dour grin. “First come first served is the rule around here, Jayne Cobb.”

He blinked in surprise, but to his credit didn’t flinch.

“How do you know my name?”

“I got ears, don’t I? No one comes into my territory and plucks my pigeons without I find out about it. And you done some plucking already, ain’t you, Jayne? Yer a man some folks is afeared of. Or so I hear tell.”

“That’s right. I’m a fearsome man, and most people just turn over what I ask for without me having to make a big thing out of it. Look, I’ll play fair with you, Vera. Gimmee half and I’ll just be on my merry. You don’t have to share with your hangers-on, and I won’t tell my boys I got anything.”

“Yer boys? Ha,” she snorted. “Yer a follower, Jayne Cobb. Everybody as has heard of you knows that much. A fearsome creature, yes, but a follower still, and ain’t nobody gonna believe you survived meeting me _and_ didn’t get away with no money.”

“You got a point there,” he conceded. “Okay, how’s this? You give me all the money and I don’t kill you?”

“I’d be more likely to shoot you and keep it.”

“Well, that ain’t so much to my liking. But I think we oughta reach a decision of some kind, because I’m not too keen on sitting here talking all night.”

“Nor am I. How about this, Jayne Cobb? I’ll lay the money down and we’ll draw over it, you and me. The one left standing gets the prize.”

“No way, Vera. If I shoot you, your gang’ll be all over me in a second taking it back.”

“This sorry bunch of reprobates? No they ain’t. These worthless sacks o’ man flesh ain’t no better than a pack o’ dogs. Kill the leader and they’ll scatter, sure as guns iron. You ain’t got nothing to fear from them and that’s the truth.”

Jayne nodded thoughtfully. The first thing anyone learned about Vera Dahl was that she never, ever went back on her word. She wasn’t a liar and no one had ever yet made one of her.

“Wish I’d’ve met up with you before I joined those two weasely bastards. We’da made a better team.”

“I never partnered with no man before and I ain’t fixing on starting now. Yer all too easily bought.”

He reflected that that was certainly true in his case, but didn’t say so. She already knew, anyway. But Jayne didn’t know Vera as well as she knew him. At least not yet.

Vera’s mind was tracking on different lines. She was thinking of Jayne’s reputation—of his fearlessness, his ruthlessness, and his total lack of ambition. He might not stay bought, no man ever did, but while he had a strong leader over him, he wasn’t likely to turn. She could have used him, had they met some other time, in some other way. Now he was just another man she’d have to kill. It was a shame, in a way, to have to gun down such a man. He was undoubtedly a vicious brute, but he could be controlled. The problem was that Vera couldn’t really care for a man that she could control. Her standards were simply impossible, so she didn’t usually give it any thought. But Jayne Cobb—he’d had some potential. Yes, it was almost a shame. Well, the world was full of trainable beasts. She’d pick up a better one somewhere. A live one.

“I guess we ain’t got much choice,” Jayne said, interrupting her thoughts. “You throw down that cash box and then we’ll commence with the killing.”

Jayne’s reputation told her that he was an honest scoundrel, so long as he didn’t have too much time to think it over, so she kept only one eye on him while she unstrapped the box from the back of her saddle. She threw it down and her horse skittered away from the cloud of dust. Jayne’s horse shied and he dismounted, letting the reins dangle so the big bay wouldn’t run. It never crossed his mind that he might not be riding away. Vera’s horse, reaching the same conclusion, stood still as she slid off, and the two animals eyed each other as if wondering which of them was going home alone.

“What do you say, Jayne? Count of three?”

“Your count or mine?”

“His,” she said, jerking her thumb at one of her men who stood watching from the shelter of a boulder. The man didn’t actually leave the thin protection of the rock, but he did count down for them. They drew in unison, but Jayne was just a hair faster. Maybe he had a looser holster or a lighter gun, or maybe he just wasn’t distracted by any thoughts of her possible humanity. Whatever the cause, he fired a tiny fraction of a second ahead of her, putting a bullet through the center of her long brown coat. Her own bullet, which would have gone into his heart, drilled through his upper arm instead. Jayne ignored it while he holstered his gun and strapped the cash box onto the back of his horse, who was giving Vera’s mount a look that said _I told you so_. He was pulling a bandana from his coat to bind it with, but a whisper from Vera stopped him.

Jayne walked over and kicked her gun away as the thunder of hooves signaled her crew’s hasty retreat. She was right. Men didn’t stay bought. He crouched beside her, expecting to hear some wise-ass remark, or maybe a curse on his name. He’d watched a lot of people die and he couldn’t remember when he’d last heard something new in the way of final words. But Vera surprised him once again. She looked up into his face with strangely softened eyes, an expression he couldn’t read nearly covering up the pain.

“I was wrong about you, Jayne Cobb,” she breathed. “You was worth something after all.”

“What’s that?”

“You—you was a man to be reckoned with—after all.”

“Well, yeah. I allus said that myself,” he grinned, preening yet vaguely puzzled. What in blazes was she talking like this for, after he’d killed her?

“I think I could’ve loved you,” Vera sighed, her eyes falling closed. “Jayne… love you.”

He stood there for long minutes after her labored breathing ceased, trying to figure out what she could have meant. No woman had ever said those words to him without getting paid, and no one he’d shot had ever spoken kindly to him after. Usually not before, either. It simply made no sense. But love wasn’t something Jayne worried over much about. The finer emotions—love, loyalty, respect not based on firepower—had always slipped through the coarse grain of his understanding. He resigned himself to never quite knowing what Vera had felt as she died, but it seemed wrong to leave her lying in the dirt like this. What to do about that eluded him as thoroughly as the meaning behind her dying words, and he gave her one last puzzled look as he mounted his horse and rode away. He didn’t even remember to bandage his arm.

Vera would never know how he carried her memory with him, or the peculiar way in which he chose to honor her bold, reckless, life—a life so like his own that he was bound to respect it. But if she did know, Jayne felt certain she would approve.

_It’s the best gun made by man.  
I call it Vera._


End file.
